


Two Rings for C.C.

by Shorina



Category: The Nanny
Genre: Angst, F/M, Happy Ending, Humor, Misunderstandings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-20
Updated: 2015-10-20
Packaged: 2018-04-27 07:41:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 5,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5039779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shorina/pseuds/Shorina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just before she heads off on a business trip with Maxwell, C.C. leaves a note on his desk that turns the Sheffield-household upside down.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [badger79](https://archiveofourown.org/users/badger79/gifts).



At first glance it was a peaceful scene that unfolded in the Sheffield's living room that Saturday morning. The youngest daughter, Grace, knelt on the floor between sofa and coffee table, drawing, while her father looked on over her shoulder.

But the scene wasn't truly that peaceful when you looked a little closer. There was tension in the air as Maxwell Sheffield repeatedly checked his watch. As a coat was draped over the back of the sofa, and a small suitcase stood by the door, he was clearly waiting for someone or something.

And yet, when the doorbell finally rang, he didn't get up, but instead called for his butler. “Niles?” Lowering his voice to talk to his daughter he continued, “That'll be the taxi, darling, finally.”

Niles, who walked into the room from the back of the house, heard those words as, with a scowl aimed at the back of his employer's head, he walked to open the door.

“You can already take the luggage out to the car,” he said as he opened the door. Outside, however, stood not the expected taxi driver, but C.C. Babcock – Mr. Sheffield's business partner.

“Why don't you do it yourself? I'm sure you already have ample experience handling it, having first packed it and then brought it down,” C.C. retorted as she strode in past him. 

Maxwell twisted around on the sofa so he could look at her. “Ah, C.C. I'll be out in a minute. Just saying good bye to Gracie.”

C.C. offered him a smile that implied he might be talking about a cat instead of his daughter and she wouldn't know the difference. “No problem. I'll just drop these on your desk while you do.” She waved a sheaf of papers about as she vanished in the direction of Maxwell's office.

“So, darling, good bye,” Maxwell said to his daughter who was looking up at him. “Daddy will be home again tomorrow evening.”

“I know, you already told me six times,” Grace replied with a benevolent smile. “Have a good trip, daddy.”

“Thank you, darling.” He kissed her cheek, got up and reached for his coat. His suitcase was still waiting by the door, and he pointedly looked first at the piece of luggage, then at Niles.

“Yes, of course, Sir. Just waiting for you,” Niles said hurriedly and reached for the luggage he, indeed, had both packed and carried downstairs earlier. Thankfully it was just a small suitcase and not very heavy.

While Niles took it outside to the waiting taxi, C.C. returned from Maxwell's office and sidled up to her partner. “Ready for a night out?” She tried to make it sound lascivious but didn't quite hit the right tone.

Maxwell raised an eyebrow at her but said nothing in reply, opting for a safe, “We'd better get going if we don't want to miss the flight.”

Disappointed by his evasive return, C.C. walked out the door with Maxwell following on her heels.

Niles let them pass, then re-entered the house and shut the door behind them. He walked through to kitchen, leaving Grace alone in the big front room. She worked on her drawing for a while longer – until the tip of one of her coloring pencils broke off. Unperturbed she got up and walked towards her father's office to find a pencil sharpener.

She entered the office and walked directly to and then around the desk to open one of the drawers, knowing exactly where her father kept the desired item. While she worked on her pencil, she noticed the papers C.C. had left on the desk mere minutes ago. The top one was a note in C.C.'s hand, and at first Grace struggled a little with the unfamiliar handwriting. But there weren't many words and she had soon deciphered them. _'Maxwell, please refund me for 2 x Ring – $1,090'_

Grace blinked in confusion. Why would C.C. buy two rings and ask her father to pay for them? Well, what _did_ two people need rings for?


	2. Chapter 2

In the kitchen, Fran Fine was sitting at the table with her best friend Val, each with a plate laden with cake in front of them.

“He did what? You're kidding,” Fran said with a dismissive gesture of her right hand while her left hand lifted her fork to her mouth.

“He did, I'm telling you!” Val assured her as the kitchen door was flung open and Grace rushed in, seemingly close to tears. She threw her arms around Fran, which caused her cake to fall off her fork. Thankfully it landed on the tabletop, not on Fran's skirt. She considered whether to still eat it or not, but Grace interrupted her before she reached a decision.

“You will stay with us, won't you, Fran? You'll still be our nanny!” Grace sounded as agitated as her rushed entry had suggested she was.

“Of course I'm staying, honey,” she attempted to reassure the young girl while throwing Val an apologetic look that said _'I'll quickly have to deal with this'_.

But then her expression turned into a frown and she looked at Grace, the dropped cake forgotten. “What do you mean I'll _still_ be your nanny?”

Grace, unwilling to let go of Fran, sniffled into her bosom. “Now that daddy is marrying Miss Babcock.”

“He's doing what?!” Fran and Val exclaimed in unison.

“He's marrying Miss Babcock.”

“Oh honey, what makes you think that? He'd never do that,” Fran said, but the expression on her face said she was thinking hard about the latter part of the statement, checking if she actually believed it.

“I saw it. The rings.”

“You saw the rings?” Val asked. “I bet he got her a diamond.”

A stern look from Fran shut her up. “Honey, what did you see?” She still tried to sound calm and reassuring, but an edge was creeping into Fran's voice.

“The note. Miss Babcock left it on his desk, asking him to pay her back for the rings.”

“The bastard, making her buy the rings!” Val exclaimed. “I thought the man had style!”

“Val! Shut up.” Fran said, now just barely keeping her voice in check. She turned back to Grace. “I'm sure you got that wrong, Gracie.” Her voice, however, didn't sound like she was convinced of that statement. “Can you show me that note?”

Grace reached for Fran's hand and pulled her away from the table without a word. She led her to her father's office, Val following on their heels. 

Along the way they passed Niles, who was dusting in the hallway, and he immediately decided to follow them. This trek of three seemed like something was going on and, curious as always, he had to find out what it was.

The four entered the office and Grace led Fran to the desk and pointed at the note. Fran picked it up.

“Maxwell, please refund me for 2 x Ring – $1,090” Fran read out aloud. She pulled a face, then staggered backwards until her legs hit the sofa and sat down. The note was still in her hand. She was suddenly very pale.

“I told you, he's marrying Miss Babcock,” Grace whined and threw herself onto the sofa next to Fran. “You have to stay, Fran. You must!”

Fran absent-mindedly patted her while the other two just looked on, both stunned by what they had heard.

“I don't believe it,” Val finally said.

“Me neither,” Niles admitted.

“I can't believe he's so cheap! Two wedding bands for just over $1,000! I thought he was so rich,” Val continued.

“Because he spends so little,” Niles commented dryly, thinking of his own wages.

Fran finally got a grip on herself and looked up at them. “Is that all you're thinking about? Money? Mr. Sheffield is marrying Miss Babcock!” And that's when a thought struck her. She turned to Grace. “Honey, where is it your father and Miss Babcock have gone?”

Bewildered by the question, Grace forgot about her sniffing for a moment. “Las Vegas, why?”

“Oh my God! They're not only getting married, they've eloped!”


	3. Chapter 3

Fifteen minutes later, everyone had returned to the kitchen. Niles was busying himself with some dishes at the counter, while Grace and Val sat opposite each other at the table.

Fran was pacing up and down the kitchen, from the table to the fridge and back. It just so happened that she got another piece of cake out of the fridge as she passed it.

“I need to go to Las Vegas. I need to stop this!”

Val seemed worried, but by now she was finally worrying about her friend, not money. “Do you even know where in Las Vegas they're staying?”

Fran shook her head. “Nooo...” she whined and tucked into her cake. She didn't bother with a fork, just stuffed her mouth with it.

Sylvia Fine entered the kitchen through the back door. She had rushed over as soon as her daughter had called to say Mr. Sheffield was getting married. Of course she had assumed he was finally marrying her daughter and had hung up and rushed out the door before Fran had been able to explain things.

“Fran! I'm so happy for you,” she exclaimed, then stopped and took in the sight of her obviously very _un_ happy daughter. “Don't tell me he took it back again.”

“Oh if only he had!” Fran whined. “Oh Ma, what am I going to do?”

“Marry him, of course.” Sylvia clearly didn't understand her daughter's unhappiness. “What's wrong? This is what you've wanted for years!”

Fran stopped chewing and looked at her mother with bewilderment. “No, it's not.”

Now it was Sylvia's turn to be bewildered. “I thought you loved him?”

Niles was looking from mother to daughter and back. He held no love for Sylvia Fine, but had a soft spot for Fran. “I believe that is why she is so shocked to find out that Mr. Sheffield has flown to Las Vegas to marry Miss Babcock.”

“Yeeesss,” Fran whined and, biting off another piece of her cake, finally slumped down on her chair.

“Oh darling, why didn't you say so in the frist place?” Sylvia sat down beside her and reached to pat her daughter's hand. 

Fran shot her a look that said _'because you hung up on me'_ , but her desperation stopped her from voicing the thought. 

“At least now you know why he took it back.”

“Oh Ma, how can he do this to me? After all these years?”

“To you and to all of us,” Niles commented, his lack of enthusiasm for a future that included C.C. Babcock as his employer's wife clearly audible in the few words.

“When is this marriage supposed to happen?”

“We don't know. They're on the plane to Vegas,” Val informed her.

“He said he's going on a business trip,” Grace said. “I don't understand why he lied to me.”

Instinct made Fran try to calm the girl despite her own hurt feelings. “Oh honey, that's part of people eloping. Either they don't even tell you they're going away at all, or they lie about the reason. I'm sure your father didn't mean to hurt you.”

“I won't call her _'Mother'_ ,” Grace stated firmly. 

“I don't think she'll notice one way or another,” Niles said. C.C.'s disinterest in Maxwell's children was a well known fact.

They sat in silence for a while, each of them wondering what these news would mean for them.

A few minutes later, Margaret walked in. She stopped just beyond the door and took in the serene scene in front of her. “What's happened?”

“Your father is getting married,” Sylvia stated.

“What? He's finally asked you to marry you?” She was talking to Fran, but the gloom in the room made her words sound wary.

Fran got up, walked up to Margaret and hugged her. “You need to be strong now. Your dad and Miss Babcock have eloped to get married in Las Vegas.”

Shock was written onto Margaret's face. “You're joking, right? Dad? Eloping? With C.C.?”

But Fran nodded with such sadness on her face, that Margaret hugged her back and they held on to each other for a long moment.

“Are you sure of this?” Margaret asked when they parted again.

“She bought the rings, presumably so none of us would stumble over them, and now they're on a plane to Las Vegas,” Fran explained, having only now come up with a good reason why Mr. Sheffield would not have bought the rings himself: To minimize the risk of anyone finding out and intervening.

“Is there no way we can stop this?” Margaret asked.

“We don't know when or where they're getting married, not even where in Vegas they're staying.”

“Surely there must be something we can do,” Margaret said, but she, just like everyone else, was struggling to come up with ideas.


	4. Chapter 4

They had moved to the living room, which offered more seats than the kitchen. Fran sat between Grace and Sylvia on the sofa, Val and Margaret opposite them and Niles was trying to distract himself with some dusting.

No one was speaking, though occasionally one of them looked up with momentary enthusiasm for a new idea, which was then discarded before even being voiced.

All they could do for the moment was to wait for the one still ignorant member of the household to return home: Brighton. It seemed to take him forever to come home, but it was just their perception playing tricks on them.

Brighton was whistling when he let himself in less than half an hour later. But when he noticed the whole family – plus extensions in the form of Val and Sylvia – assembled, the stopped whistling and frowned.

“Who's dead?” He asked suspiciously and came over to them.

 _'Your father once I get my hands on him,'_ Fran wanted to say, but she swallowed it down.

“Dad is marrying Miss Babcock in Las Vegas,” Grace informed him instead. Her brother slumped down on the arm of the sofa at her side.

“Never.”

“She's right,” Fran said. “We have evidence that they eloped.”

Brighton didn't say a word, just looked from one of them to the next and was met with nothing but earnest nods. He swallowed.

“Well, they have known each other for ages,” he finally said, “but marriage?” He shook his head.

“I know, it seems so … unreal,” Margaret added.

They all sat in silence again, or stood, in Niles' case, glum expressions on their faces.

“Should we throw them a party?” Margaret finally asked, startling the others out of their thoughts.

“No way!” Brighton sulkily stated simultaneously to Val's cheerful exclamation of, “Oh yeah, parties are so much fun!” Everyone glared at her.

“Val!” Fran exclaimed. If she'd been sitting close enough, she'd have given her a slap on the arm for the stupid thought.

“But wouldn't it be a nice thing to do?” Grace asked, looking up at Fran.

“Honey, they eloped to get married without telling any of us. I don't think we should spoil their surprise for when they want to tell us. That wouldn't be very nice of us, would it?” That sounded mature enough to Fran. Basically she was just as happy with the two words Brighton had exclaimed: _'No way!'_ She was not going to celebrate the marriage of the man she loved to another woman, least of all C.C. Babcock.

“I suppose not,” Grace said slowly, considering Fran's words. “But we already know, so we won't be surprised.”

“But they don't know that we know.”

“Oh, yeah. Right.”

“We'll just have to pretend to be surprised.”

“Do we also have to pretend to be happy for them?”

“Brighton! You _should_ be happy for your father that has found someone he wants to share his life with,” Fran admonished.

He scowled at her. “That's a yes, then.”

“Of course it is,” Val confirmed.


	5. Chapter 5

That night no one in the Sheffield household got much sleep, or if they did, were plagued by disturbing dreams about the future.

Grace dreamed of C.C. triumphantly standing in the hall, pointing to the open door. Fran stood in front of the door with her suitcase, looking back sadly. Grace wanted to run to her, to hold Fran back, to not let her go, but C.C. gripped her arm and held on with seemingly super-human strength. She even cackled when Fran slunk out of the door.

Brighton woke from a nightmare in a cold sweat. He'd stood in his father's office in front of the desk, his father sitting on the other side, hands folded on the desktop so his wedding band was visible, and C.C. standing at his side with a hand on her husband's shoulder. His father had looked up at C.C. uncertainly and she had encouraged him: “It's for the best, Maxwell.” His father had nodded glumly and then a heavy hand had fallen onto Brighton's shoulder. He had turned and found himself face to face with a man in uniform. His father was sending him to military school after all.

Margaret's dream worked the other way around. She was going to elope with her boyfriend instead of being sent away. But that way neither of them could finish school and she pictured herself in torn clothes, living on the street. Oddly enough she was happy that way – happy at least to not live in the same house as C.C. Babcock, married Sheffield. As she sat at a corner, begging, her father walked past her, stopped for a moment, dropped a penny into her tin, and walked on without recognizing her.

Niles pondered the misery that his life would be under the rule of C.C. Babcock. He had no doubt that she'd get Mr. Sheffield to replace him before long. No, he wouldn't give her that satisfaction, he'd make some phone calls, see if he could find employment elsewhere. He'd been loyal to Maxwell Sheffield for such a long time, but even his loyalty had its limits.

Fran lay awake as well. She was torn between her affection for the children and the hurt of betrayal that she felt from Maxwell. She really didn't want to leave the kids, but she really didn't want to live in the same house as C.C. – or as a married Maxwell Sheffield. It'd be torture! Oh, what was she to do? Would she even be welcome any longer once C.C. moved in? She thought of the dirty looks C.C. often aimed at her. No, she would have to go. As skilled as she had become at twisting Maxwell around her little finger, she was certain C.C. would put her foot down in that respect. And she was not going to wait until they kicked her out. She'd walk out with her head held high. She sighed and got up, wrapped herself in her robe, and sat down to start composing a formal letter of resignation.

Even Sylvia was plagued by a nightmare: In her dream, Fran had moved back in with her and Morty, having had to leave the Sheffield household. But what made it worse, she refused suitor after suitor who literally came knocking on Sylvia's door, asking her for Fran's hand in marriage. Doctors, actors, other rich Jews and Fran just kept bursting into tears each time, moaning about Mr. Sheffield.

The only one who slept peacefully that night was Val. But with her brain being as selective as it was about what to process, it took no great effort for her to have happy dreams.


	6. Chapter 6

Sunday, the aftermath of the night became apparent. Brighton already sat at the kitchen table, bent over a school book, when Fran came down the stairs.

“You're up early, Brighton.”

“Hm-m.”

Fran looked over his shoulder and frowned at the mathematical terms the boy was studying. “If you need any help with that, good luck finding any,” she mumbled and walked into the living room. Here she found Grace drawing a picture. 

The girl put some finishing touches to it and then held it out to Fran. “This is for you.”

Touched, Fran took the picture and studied it. “Oh my God! That's –“ She frowned a little as she tried to make sense of it. 

“That's us going shopping,” Grace supplied.

Fran smiled to hide she hadn't realized that. “Of course it is. I was just trying to find the rights word to say how much I love it. Thank you, honey.”

Grace got up and wrapped her arms around Fran and she gave the girl a hug in return. But Grace didn't let go.

Fran frowned a little but did her best to walk towards the dining room to see if there was breakfast. It was hard work walking with Grace clinging to her hip, but they finally made it.

There was no breakfast, however. Actually Niles was nowhere to be seen.

Maggie walked in from the kitchen. “No breakfast?”

“No Niles,” Fran replied. “Where is he?”

“You know, I think he's in dad's office. I think I heard his voice when I walked past.”

“Gracie, honey, would you please let go?” Fran tried to pry the girl's fingers loose without hurting her. Grace finally relinquished her hold on Fran's hip but instead grabbed her hand so Fran had no choice but to take her along to Maxwell's office.

She walked right in without knocking. Niles was sitting behind Maxwell's desk, flipping through the rolodex, the phone pulled close.

“And what do you think you're doing?” Fran demanded to know.

Niles didn't bother to look up. “Find a job. Maybe even one that pays better than this did.”

“Niles! You can't leave.”

“Oh yes, I can. Aha.” He'd found the number he had been looking for and reached for the phone, but looked up before he lifted the receiver. “If you don't mind,” he nodded towards the door.

“Of course. Honey, shut the door, will you?”

Grace, without releasing Fran's hand, took a step back to reach for the door.

“I meant to close it behind you on your way out,” Niles stated, having no head for pleasantries.

Fran looked offended for a moment but then ushered Grace out the door and did as she was asked. She couldn't really blame Niles, not with her own letter of resignation hidden in the drawer of her nightstand. “I think we'd better find ourselves some breakfast, Gracie.”

“Okay,” Grace confirmed, and together they walked to the kitchen. “Fran? You're not leaving us, are you?”

“Oh, honey,” was all Fran could bring her self to utter as a reply.


	7. Chapter 7

The hours until Maxwell was supposed to return home passed slowly while the inhabitants of the Sheffield-household tried to distract themselves. 

Margaret stayed in her room all day, spending hours on the phone. Grace accompanied Fran wherever she went, and Brighton refused to stop studying, hoping better grades would save him from the fate of having to attend a military school.

Niles had re-emerged from the office but refused to say anything about the calls he had made.

Sylvia had dropped by around noon, but when she found that no fresh gourmet food was waiting to be snatched up, soon had left again.

Around tea-time, everyone assembled in the living room. Niles had taken up his duties again and served them tea and some cookies. 

Still, it was a solemn gathering that Maxwell Sheffield walked into when he returned home. “Ah, it's good to be home,” he announced joyfully, holding out his coat for Niles to take it and put it away.

“Is it?” Brighton asked cynically. “I thought Las Vegas was such a great place to be.”

Maxwell either didn't notice the tone or chose to ignore it. “Oh, there's no place like home, son.”

Niles finally took the coat from him, and Maxwell walked up to his gathered family. “Is no one going to welcome me home properly?” The question was mainly aimed at Grace, who usually was the to one who showed the most joy and interest in his return.

“Welcome home, daddy,” Grace said with little enthusiasm.

“Where's Miss Babcock?” Fran couldn't help herself, she had to ask.

Maxwell seemed puzzled by the question. “C.C.? I dropped her off at home on the way from the airport. Why?”

“So when were you planning to spring the news on us?” Anger and hurt were creeping into Fran's voice – her emotions were too strong to keep them fully bottled up.

Maxwell raised an eyebrow at her tone but kept his voice calm. “Once the contract is signed, you'll be the first to know. But I think it won't be long now.”

“Dad, we already know,” Brighton stated.

“What? Has she called before I got home?”

Everyone exchanged confused glances. While it would have been like C.C. to call and gloat, she hadn't. 

“No one called,” Niles confirmed, sounding rather unhappy about it. He had been hoping to hear back about an opening at another household before his current employer returned.

“Then how can you know?” Maxwell sounded bewildered. “We haven't signed the contract yet.”

Fran sighed. “Gracie found the note.” She hugged the girl sitting at her side.

“The note? Oh, I see, she sent a fax, did she? Or probably rather her agent did. Where is it?”

“On your desk, Sir,” Niles stated, too lost in his own thoughts to have picked up the fax reference.

Maxwell smiled and rubbed his hands together. “Good, good. I hadn't expected it so soon, but that's all for the better.”

Finally he took in the glum faces in front of him. “What's wrong with you all? This is a reason to celebrate.”

Brighton put on a pained smile. “I'm happy for you,” he said, then threw Fran a pained look.

“Well, thank you, Brighton.”

“Will Miss Babcock be joining us for dinner to … celebrate?” Niles asked.

“Oh, no. She was rather wiped out.”

“I wonder why,” Fran muttered under her breath, thinking about what might have been going on during the wedding night.

Maxwell had heard, though. “Well, it _is_ a long trip to Las Vegas and back to make in just two days.” He didn't linger on the topic, though. Instead he cheerfully announced, “I'll quickly get changed, look at that note and then I want to hear all about your weekend.”

He didn't wait for a reaction and set off up the stairs.

“He seems surprisingly happy about being asked to pay $1,000,” Margaret said.

“It's probably the high of –“ Fran trailed off, unwilling to talk about sex openly in front of the kids. “He's probably so happy about the marriage that nothing can spoil his mood.”

“Wish I could say the same for myself,” Niles grumbled and picked up Maxwell's suitcase to carry it upstairs.


	8. Chapter 8

A while later, Maxwell Sheffield emerged from his office, a couple of papers in his hand. 

“Niles! Where is the note? I can't seem to find it!”

Niles poked his head around the corner of the hall and spotted it in his employer's hand immediately. “Right there in your hand, Sir.” He pointed towards C.C.'s note with a wooden spoon as he had been disturbed while cooking.

Maxwell shuffled through the papers in his hand once more. “No, it's not here. These are just the papers C.C. dropped off before we left.”

Niles frowned. “Yes.”

“But where's the fax?”

“What fax?”

Maxwell was getting impatient. “The fax from Carolyn's agent! You said it was on my desk.”

Carolyn? So that had to be what one of the C's stood for, Niles silently mused. “Fax? I said the _note_ was on your desk.”

Maxwell was finally getting suspicious. “Which note were you talking about?”

“That one,” Niles pointed again. “The one from Miss Babcock.”

Frowning, Maxwell looked at the only paper that qualified as a note. It was the request to repay her $1,090. “But...” He stopped and walked back into his office, puzzled. “How can they know about the contract from that note? It's got nothing to do with Carolyn,” he wondered.

Staring at the note didn't enlighten him, so he decided to ask his daughter about it. From what he had heard when he got home, Grace should be able to shed some light on the matter. He made his way to the living room, where he found not only Grace, but also the rest of his family.

“Gracie, is this the note you found?” He held it out to his youngest daughter.

She glanced at it and nodded sadly.

“But how can you know about the deal with Carolyn from this?”

When she heard the name, Fran jumped to the same conclusion that Niles had mere moments ago. She stood and faced Maxwell, anger bubbling up inside her – this time that he apparently thought them so dumb. “Well, Mister, we can still put two and two together. Two people, two rings and a trip to Las Vegas? It doesn't take a genius to solve that equation.” 

“What rings?” Maxwell asked, bewilderment obvious in his voice.

“Those rings,” Fran tapped the note in his hand.

“The tickets to Wagner's Ring?”

“Exactly.” She stopped. “Wait, what tickets?”

“These! I had asked C.C. to buy the tickets for Wagner's Ring because I was too busy to do it myself. So of course I'm repaying her for them.”

Fran looked wary and glanced at the kids. “She didn't buy any actual rings?”

“No.”

“Just tickets to... some show?”

“Wagner's Ring at the Metropolitan Opera. Best seats in the house, I sure hope they'll do the trick, expensive as they are.” He eyed her suspiciously. “Miss Fine, why did you think C.C. bought two rings?”

Before Fran could reply, Grace had raced to her father and wrapped herself around him. “You're not married!”

Maxwell looked at his daughter in astonishment. “Why would I be...” And then two and two finally stopped adding up to five. “Wait, you thought C.C. had bought two wedding rings and we flew to Las Vegas to,” he just barely suppressed a shudder at the thought, “get married?”

“What? Never! That's absurd,” Fran quickly exclaimed, but the relief in her voice gave her away.

“It is,” Maxwell stated and stooped to hug his daughter. “Gracie, I'd never get married without telling you.”

“Promise?”

“Of course.”

“Well, who's Carolyn?” Brighton interjected.

“Carolyn Carlsson, I'm trying to sign her as the female lead for my new production. And she's currently involved in a musical in Las Vegas. That's why I had to fly out there for the negotiations.”

“And the tickets?” Margaret inquired.

“A small – or rather no so small – bribe for Randolph Miller, who hopefully will be so impressed by my generosity that he will be investing a large sum in my new show.”


	9. Chapter 9

Late that evening, when everyone had retreated to their rooms and just the last embers of a fire were still glowing in the living room fireplace, Fran quietly descended the stairs, an envelope in her hand.

She walked to the fireplace, stirred the embers a little with a poker and, when some flames showed, threw the envelope containing her letter of resignation into the fire.

Maxwell Sheffield had been about to get himself a glass of water from the kitchen, but had gotten curious when he had seen Fran tiptoe around the corner with the envelope. He now stood on the stairs and watched her.

Fran stood in front of the fireplace and in turn watched the paper burn, then turned and Maxwell saw the smile on her face. But when she noticed him on the stairs, she seemed startled.

“Should I ask what that was about?” He nodded towards the fire as he walked down the stairs to join her.

“Oh, nothing.”

“Do you often burn _nothing_ in the fireplace at night, Miss Fine?”

“No,” she said, adding _'thankfully I don't have to'_ in thoughts.

They stood looking at each other for a moment before Maxwell spoke up. “You really thought I had flown to Las Vegas to marry C.C.?”

Fran's mind raced, trying to find words that didn't make her seem too dumb. “Well, it was Gracie's conclusion, really. But it did seem logical at the time. We all believed it.”

“I can't believe you're thinking me capable of something like that. Of betraying my family in such a way. I'd never do any such thing behind their backs.” He realized he'd just excluded her. “Nor behind yours.”

“You'd better not,” she said, now grinning coquettishly again, but it was still partly a front to hide her inner feelings. “You have no idea what that might lead to.”

Oh how he loved that grin. Even though he couldn't see it all that clearly with the light of the fire behind her, he could picture it just as easily as he could picture her curves that were hidden by the robe she wore.

“The way you just said it, I probably don't want to find out. Oh, Miss Fine. Fran.” His voice softened as he said her name. “You may sometimes put two and two together and make it come up five – but we'd be lost without you.”

“I'll remind you next time you think I'm not helping Brighton enough with his maths homework,” she teased.

Maxwell laughed briefly, then stepped up to her and pulled her into his arms. “You do that. Yes, you do just that.”

She leaned into the embrace, wrapped her arms around him and sighed. “You can be sure of that, Mister.”

Maxwell placed a kiss on her hair and held her, gazing into the fire over her shoulder. Fran, on the other hand, closed her eyes and simply enjoyed being in his arms. Just a few hours ago she had feared she'd never get the chance to be in this position ever again.


End file.
